Family Ties
by Hahukum Konn
Summary: Curly Shepard's fight with a Soc has unintended consequences for Angela. -Considered to be AU to canon by the author-
1. Chapter 1

**Family Ties**  
Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to S. E. Hinton.

_A word by the author: while the canonical ancestry of the Shepards cannot be definitively established, I regard this fic as being AU to established canon. It is therefore not necessary to believe the revelations in this fic to be the final word on the Shepards._

- - -

Angela Shepard didn't like hospitals on general principle, but today she_ particularly_ hated them. In the confused babble as she was pulled out of English class, it turned out her brother, Curly, had his knife in his jeans pocket when he went to school. Then he got into a fight with a Soc near the end of lunch and had apparently pulled out his knife without thinking. Said Soc _also_ had a knife, and Curly was in the hospital now with a nasty cut to his side. Seemed he'd lost quite a bit of blood before the ambulance paramedics stabilized him.

The nurse in charge of Emergency reception had said, "What're you here for, miss?"

Angela had replied, "All I know's my brother Curly Shepard got cut up and now he's stuck here so they figured I should be here instead of at school. Where's Tim, my mom or my stepdad?"

"Your name is…?"

"Angela. Angela Shepard."

The nurse was scribbling something on her clipboard. "Sister, then?"

"Yeah. Look, can I see him or what?"

"Just a moment. I need to get the doctor who attended to him."

That had been five minutes ago. Now Angela was cooling her heels, sitting on the stiff chair in the emergency ward. She looked around; to her left were swinging glass doors which opened in either direction. It was late May, so warm air wafted across her as a wheelchair-bound guy in a cast was escorted out those doors by a nurse and a woman who looked to be his mother. To her right, she saw a long hallway with several doors which, she assumed, led into hospital rooms, operating theaters or other hallways.

A guy who looked like he could be in the high school came in, coughing noisily. He sat down a few chairs away, and Angela nervously wondered if she might catch his early start on a summer cold. After he whipped out a handkerchief and coughed like a foghorn into it, she scooted down as many chairs as she could, and wiped her hands on her skirt. She nervously thought, _when the hell is my mom gonna get here?_

Directly across the hall from her was the counter where the Emergency ward reception nurse had been standing, but which was currently unmanned. The occasional doctor or nurse ducked behind the currently-unmanned counter to look at the sign-in list, sparing her only the occasional glance as she wondered when her mother was going to show up, while Foghorn down the hall honked again. The principal had driven her to the hospital, but said he needed to get back to the school and so left quickly.

As Angela looked again towards the entrance doors, she noticed with some relief that a nurse was near the Foghorn Cougher, writing stuff onto a clipboard. A young male technician approached, and she heard "X-ray" in the middle of stuff the nurse was blabbering at him. As the X-ray guy led the sick guy off, she saw her mother bustling in through the entry doors, and Angela rushed over to greet her. "Mom! They won't let me see Curly! Where's Tim? Where's Hank?"

"Sorry, honey, but I don't know where Tim is, either. He took off this morning and God only knows where he is now. As for Hank, he's at work and I'm not sure they'll let him take off." Her mother sighed and wrapped her arm around Angela. "Where's the doctor, Angel?"

Just as Angela was about to reply after returning the embrace, a doctor accompanied the Emergency nurse as she resumed her post behind the counter. The man was a nondescript, graying doctor with horn-rimmed glasses. He briefly shook her mother's hand and said, "I'm Doctor Emerson. Curly Shepard – I understand that's a nickname – has lost enough blood that I would like to give him a transfusion. We've typed him, and he's type A negative. Normally we'd use the blood bank and use type O negative, but we're out of that and only have O positive. We'd like to check both of your blood types, if that's possible."

A_ transfusion_? That didn't sound good at all.

Oddly, her mom seemed a bit uncertain as she lamely said, "Well, Angela's thirteen, and she doesn't like needles."

_What?!_

Angela whined, "_Mom!_ That's not true!" She took a breath, and stridently said, "I want to help! Is Curly gonna die?"

"Now you hush up, Angela. I'll donate. Doctor, let's get this done already."

Why on Earth would her mother not want her to help her exasperating brother? Curly was family, even if she was tempted to deny everything at school sometimes. The doctor was looking at her mother a bit funny, like he wasn't sure what to believe about the needle thing. He said, "Well, we don't expect Curly to die, but his recovery will be delayed if we can't transfuse."

Mutinously, Angela looked Doctor Emerson in the eye and said, "Just check me out, too! If it makes him better, I want to help, damn it."

Angela felt the slight blow against her shoulder. "Watch your mouth, young lady!"

Angela didn't bother answering as she was sent off with the nurse into what looked like a fancy chemistry lab. The nurse pricked her finger with what was called a "lancet", held her finger over a test tube and dripped some blood into it, and then gave her a band-aid, saying, "wash the cut under that faucet."

Angela went to the sink and did as ordered. After drying and bandaging her finger, she went back into the Emergency waiting area, and her mother rejoined her shortly. She looked a little nervous as they both waited another ten minutes for the results. The doctor came up to them and briskly said, "Right. Mrs. Shepard—"

Her mom broke in, saying, "My name is Lillian Coleman. My children have kept their original family name."

The doctor looked askance at her, but continued. "Mrs. Coleman, then. You're O negative. Angela, you're B negative. Sorry, but only Mrs. Shep—ah, _Coleman_ here can donate for Curly. Angela, you'll have to wait again."

Oddly, her mom paled slightly, but went off with the doctor while Angela huffily plunked herself onto the chair in the waiting area, and wondered how the hell long it was gonna take to get Curly up and around again.

After all, she still hated hospitals.

- - -

The next day at school, Angela's friends crowded around her at she said, "Look, I got no idea what happened to my lunkhead brother. I just know I got pulled outta English and the principal drove me to the hospital. He dropped me off there and said my Mom was supposed to be coming real soon 'cuz they called her at home. Anyway, he took off, I waited 'bout five minutes and my Mom showed up. They did some blood testing thing and my mom could donate but not me. So now Curly's laid up and my Mom's worried about whether we got any kind of insurance."

Her friends twittered and sympathized appropriately, but Angela's mind was back on the funny way her mom had tried (well, not too hard) to keep her from having her blood checked out. What did it matter if she was A, B, W, Z or whatever?

With that, the warning bell rang and Angela muttered, "Shit! I'll be late for math!"

She took off down the hall at a sprint and just made it to her desk before the teacher pulled his head out from the cupboard, and waved the pop quizzes from last week.

- - -

Curly, looking a bit pale, but otherwise okay, came home that night. Angela laid into him as soon as he got in the door, yelling, "Damn it, Curly, why'd you have to go get stuck with a knife?! God, for a while there I thought you were gonna die or somethin'."

She hugged Curly, then covering for her sudden lapse, punched him lightly on the shoulder and went back into the kitchen. She heard Tim saying, "Well, Curly, looks like you got a bad one there, huh? Lessee."

Angela snorted mentally as she grabbed the knives and forks to lay out at the dinner table.

_Men and their bragging rights._

Later on, at dinner, Angela said to their stepfather, "How come you couldn't come down to the hospital? They mighta needed your blood."

Hank shrugged. "Wouldn't have been able to get away from work. I didn't even know 'bout this 'till last night when I got home. Don't think I coulda donated anyway; I'm AB or something."

Her mom froze up at that, and Angela again wondered what the hell was going on. "Well, the doctor said I'm B negative, Curly's A negative, mom's O negative and… Tim, you ever find out yours?"

Tim shrugged and said, "They needed to transfuse me three years ago. You probably don't remember. Think they said I was A negative, too."

Just as Tim finished saying that, he got a frown on his face, which disappeared so quickly Angela wasn't sure she'd even seen it in the first place. She could have sworn she heard her mom sigh in relief.

* * *

Author Note:

I'd like to thank **Marauder and the Q** for beta work on this, and **xocrazililkelox** for the idea which sparked this fic. :) I'd also like to thank **mars on fire** for the names she came up with for the Shepard parents.


	2. Chapter 2

**Family Ties**  
Chapter 2

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to S. E. Hinton.

- - -

It was still early in the morning, but Tim Shepard was already awake and getting dressed in his bedroom.

Tim Shepard was not a stupid man, by any means. He knew something was up with his mother and Angela, and he just had to figure out how to break it to Angela that maybe her father wasn't who she thought he was. Dallas's cousin wrote him a letter care of general delivery and detailed the hijinks he got up to.

One of them had been getting his blood checked to see if he was the father of a girl's kid.

Tim could still remember some of the details, and one of them was that certain blood types only came from certain pairs of parents. The chat around the dinner table last night clinched it, since even if he didn't know his dad's blood type he knew his, Curly's and Angela's. He buttoned his jeans up, and slipped on his shoes.

As for Curly, well, he was a good man. But boy howdy, if he ever did something like _that_ again, cool scar or no cool scar, Tim was gonna make damn sure Curly got his head screwed on straight.

He scuffed his foot against the floor of his bedroom, and moodily stuck his hands in his jeans pockets. His bedroom wasn't much; just a bed, a chair, and a dresser. He thought about reading the newspaper and seeing if any of his friends made the police blotter again.

Suddenly, he felt the need to get out, do something, figure out what it meant for him and his family, because Angela was still his sister, as annoying as she was at times with the way she was starting to learn how to flirt with every damn asshole and a half around school.

Like a suddenly released tiger, in a whirlwind of motion he grabbed his car keys and his coat, then clattered downstairs and was out the front door with a "Bye, Ma" over his shoulder.

Unfortunately, just as he got into his car and turned the key, Angela was already at the passenger side door.

_Damn it. I don't need this_, thought Tim, while listening with half an ear to the engine. No unusual noises were coming from it.

She was looking expectantly at him. Reluctantly, he leaned over and rolled down the window, but ostentatiously made a show of not unlocking the door.

Tim yelled, "Angela, I ain't drivin' you to school."

Angela whined, "I'm gonna be late, Tim! Come _on_."

"What do I look like, a friggin' taxi service?"

Tim moved to release the parking brake, but as he did so Angela swung herself over the door and dropped herself into the passenger seat. Tim cursed inwardly at that damn window.

Sarcastically, she cooed, "Oh, poor Tim. It'd be so hard to drop me off at school and show off these wheels you spent so much time and money on."

_Well,_ Tim thought, _I _could_ scare off those little sumbitches that keep nosin' around Angela._

He grudgingly put the car in gear and backed out of the driveway. Once on the street, Tim put the car into first, and deliberately _vroom_ed the engine as he took off, feeling the slight push back into his seat.

To make sure Angela wouldn't buzz in his ear about girly stuff, Tim put the radio on, loud, and even though it was that wussy British group, the Beatles, singing, the music wasn't half bad.

Turning over the situation in his head, he wondered if he should even break it to Angela. What she didn't know, after all, couldn't hurt her, could it?

As Tim pulled up to the curb next to Angela's school, he killed the radio, put the car in neutral and set the parking brake. Just as Angela was about to unlock the door, he put his hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, Angela? Even if you're not…" _a hundred percent my sister_.

Tim's pause lengthened, and Angela's brow furrowed. Lamely, he finished with, "… always smart about guys, I'm still here, y'know."

Tim squeezed her shoulder slightly, then put his hand back on the gearshift. Angela seemed to think it was funny rather than annoying. She swatted him on the arm and snorted. "Yeah, Tim. Tell me about bein' smart about other people after Dally got mad at you over the Sylvia thing."

Miffed, Tim snapped, "That was _once_, Angela, and we ain't talkin' about her no more. Now you get on to school and you tell them boys sniffin' around you that I'm your brother."

Angela rolled her eyes exasperatedly, and got out of the car, taking off at a sprint. Just as the school's bell rang, she was at the front door, rushing inside. Tim nodded to himself, and _vroom_ed the engine again before putting it in gear and slowly driving past the front of the school.

The passenger window was still down, so Tim overheard one of the stragglers, a greaser who looked to be maybe thirteen, say in an awed voice to his friend, "Man, that was _Tim Shepard_ that pulled up here, Eric! Wait'll I tell everybody!"

Tim chuckled as he thought of how annoyed Angela would be to hear _that_. It seemed he could impress anyone except his own family.

But it was time to go see someone he could talk to about this and who could keep his mouth shut.

It was time to go see Dallas Winston.

Even if that cocky little sumbitch did key his car a month ago.

- - -

Dallas was at the Slash J's horse stables. Tim wrinkled his nose at the horsy odor that permeated the area, a mixture of straw, horse and… well, horse crap.

For all that this was cowboy country, Tim was most assuredly a city kid. But Dally seemed to have adjusted; well, he'd _had_ to or even Buck Merril wouldn't have stood for a worker who wasn't a sure thing when it came time to bet on the races.

Dallas was brushing down a horse, occasionally murmuring to it. His back was to Tim, and the horse probably would get spooked if Tim yelled. So Tim carefully moved around until he was facing the horse, and waited for Dallas to notice him.

Sure enough, Dallas turned, and he scowled. "What, you comin' here to take some more outta my hide for keyin' your car? You can just fuck right off, Tim, 'cuz I know you got that paint job paid for with those two cars you boosted a couple weeks ago. Serves you right, anyway, nosin' around Sylvia like that."

"Shut up, Dally. Hey, if you wanna talk about her, how about the way you can't keep that chick of yours from wanderin' across every other guy here in Tulsa when you get sent up a couple weeks every so often for doin' somethin' stupid like drunk and disorderly outside City Goddamn Hall?"

The horse seemed to agree and snorted. Dallas turned to it and said, "Oh, no. Don't you start fuckin' agreeing with this asshole, Brownie. You remember who feeds ya. Ain't him that does it, buster."

Apparently, Brownie wasn't impressed, because his tail just swished some, and he batted Dallas's brush hand with his nose.

Tim butted in, saying, "We gotta talk, Dallas."

Impatiently, Dally said, "Look, Tim, gimme two seconds to finish with Brownie and then we can talk about whatever the fuck is on your mind."

Tim nodded, and said, "Sure. I'll be over at my car." As he walked away, he muttered, "This place stinks."

"_I heard that!_"

Ten minutes later, Tim had gone through a cigarette and was starting on his next one when Dallas, squinting in the midmorning sun, came out from the stable area to the dusty parking lot. Wasn't much to look at, just a tamped-down area free of grass so people could park pickup trucks or horse trailers.

Tim kept leaning against his car as Dallas, having approached closely enough to speak in a normal volume, said, "So… big man Tim Shepard's gotta _talk._ What, you get all girly or somethin'?"

Tim scowled. "Knock it off, already, willya?"

Dallas stepped forward and shoved Tim a little. He said, "So if it ain't that, you're here to tell me your brain's actually workin' today for a change?"

"Spoilin' for a fight, Dally?"

Dallas grabbed the lit cigarette out of Tim's fingers and took a drag off it. "Nah. I'm in a good mood today. I'll let you off easy."

"Says the man that just stole my fuckin' cigarette. Get your own, moocher."

Dallas's expression turned serious as he said, "Okay, you wanna talk. You came in lookin' a little too serious. It's either that fight Curly got into at school, or it's Brumly. Dumb stupid hicks couldn't tie their shoes even if that asshole Officer Jenkins personally put instructions in the back of his police cab."

Tim lit up another cigarette, and took a deep drag.

"Okay, Dally. It's like this. You can't say nothin' to anyone, not even Mrs. Curtis."

Dallas moved away a bit, saying, "What, you got some disease I'm gonna catch? Get away from me, flu boy."

It was Tim's turn to shove Dallas a bit, as he said, "No, ya jerk, it ain't like that. Okay, look. What would you do if… I dunno, you found out you had a brother or sister you didn't know you had?"

Dallas snorted. "That ever happens, Tim, I'll tell the poor guy or girl they wanna survive here, he or she's gotta make sure nobody knows they're related to me. And I mean, _nobody_. Anyway, when did you come over all… I dunno, sensitive and shit?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "Who else am I gonna talk to? Bill's a good man but he don't know me the way you do."

Tim looked around instinctively, making sure there wasn't anyone within a half mile who might possibly be spying on them. In a low voice, he said, "Dally, you remember that cousin of yours what lives up by Vinita? Had that trouble with some girl's kid?"

"Yeah. What're you gettin' at, Tim? Gotta kid I don't know about? Somehow my estimation of your flagpole-raisin' ability just went up."

_If only it was that, Dallas._

Tim couldn't help but grin at Dally's irreverence. "Shut up, ya asshole." Sobering up, he continued. "It actually ain't funny. I think Angela's not my sister."

Dallas's hand holding the cigarette actually _stopped_ midway to his mouth. The wind kicked the curls out of Dally's eyes, and Tim could see the shock written in them.

Recovering himself, Dallas said, "Okay. My ears probably just got plugged up. You're sayin' Angela's someone else's kid? Well, that's news, only it probably shouldn't be."

Tim grabbed Dallas's coat lapel. "Hey, don't you say anythin' against my mother. Angela's still off limits to you, Dallas."

"Hey, whoa. The jacket, Tim!"

Tim let go, and growled, "Fuck you and your jacket. This ain't fuckin' funny, Dal. How do I tell Angela this? This ain't exactly dinnertime chat like in _Leave It To Beaver_."

Wryly, Dallas said, "Your sister's too young anyway."

Tim glared.

Dallas, unfazed, said, "Shit, I dunno. She looks sorta like you still, so she's a half sister or somethin'. So what, it make any difference anyhow? She's still got Shepard after her name."

"Yeah, I know all that. But I hoped you had ideas about what to do here."

"Well, Mr. No Idea Man, you'd _get_ ideas if you'd get smart and quit smoking those fuckin' Benson and Hedges. I smoke Kools."

In a way, Tim knew Dallas was covering for the fact that guys didn't normally talk about deep family shit. Especially not the kind that changed things. Or could, if you let them. So he bantered back, "Didn't stop you from stealin' mine, did it?"

"Desperate times, desperate measures. Hey, how the hell did you find out, anyway? You got a magic crystal ball there, Tim?"

"You only wish you had a ball, asshole."

"I got two. Now quit the hedgin' and spit it out."

Tim sighed. "Angela wanted to donate blood 'cuz Curly lost a lot. So they found out her blood type at the hospital. Angela started askin' about blood types at dinner the other night and that's when it made me start wonderin'. I got the impression Mom wasn't too happy about that, too. I figured it out in the shower this mornin'."

Dallas's mouth quirked. "I'm just thankful I ain't you right now."

"Yeah, you and your great help. I dunno, Dallas. I gotta figure this out. 'Cuz I think sooner or later Angela's gonna find out on her own. She don't even mean to get close to the truth but she'll ask innocent questions like that blood type thing and she's gonna notice Mom doesn't wanna talk about it. Only time you don't wanna talk about somethin', it's when you screwed up."

Dallas finished the cigarette, and tossed the burnt end on the dusty lot, grinding the butt in with his heel. "Tim, you know I ain't good with this shit. But whatever works. If it helped it helped. If it didn't it didn't. I gotta finish brushin' those stupid horses so Buck can bet crooked on me again. But if that asshole ever tells me to fix a horse race…"

Tim knew Dallas was touchy about stuff like that. He just shrugged in reply.

"Yeah, I just wanted to sock that annoying jerk in the face when he kind of neared up about it a few weeks ago. Told him which way he could stick _that_ idea." Dallas menacingly smacked his fist into his palm for emphasis.

Tim shrugged. "Anyway, quit messin' with my car, Dallas. Go find someone else to be all manly for."

Dallas said, "Asshole," and raised his middle finger. He turned and walked back to the stables.

Tim half-heartedly returned the goodbye gesture, and said, "Yeah, see you later too."

* * *

Author Note:

I'd like to thank **Marauder and the Q** for beta work on this, and I'd also like to thank **mars on fire** for stamping her approval of Tim Shepard's characterization here. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Family Ties**  
Chapter 3

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to S. E. Hinton.

- - -

Angela wasn't sure why she felt funny as classes ended for the day. Maybe it was nothing at all, but she couldn't figure out why her mother seemed a little off last night at supper. Holy geez, it wasn't like Angela was planning to rob Fort Knox or anything like that.

Her friend, Anita Mathews, breezed up to her locker and said, "Hey, Angel, want to go up to the Ribbon after? Two-Bit skipped today and said this morning he'd pick me up if I want to go. Think I'd say no to a free ride?"

"Even if your brother's car's got bald tires? Brave girl there, Anita." Angela patted Anita on the shoulder slightly mockingly.

Anita rolled her eyes. "So what? It's May, not December. C'mon, Angel. Live dangerously, huh?"

Angela's only response was to stick out her tongue, then slam her locker door closed. The girls headed out of the school, and searched around for the old Ford with a missing headlight.

Sure enough, it was parked a ways down the street, with Two-Bit blaring some tunes on the radio and fiddling idly with his knife. As soon as he saw the girls, though, he quickly shoved the knife in his pocket, turned down the radio and straightened up a bit. The music was momentarily interrupted by the throaty roar of the engine as he started the car.

Anita and Angela went around the car to get in on the curb side, Anita taking the front and Angela seated behind her, in the rear.

"Where to, my ladies?"

Anita seemed a little exasperated. "You know where, _Keith_. The Ribbon. Just drop us at Jay's if you want, huh?"

Two-Bit shrugged, easily guiding the car onto the road and turning up the radio again.

Before long, they were at Jay's, and the girls got out. Two-Bit's car zoomed off. The place was already a hive of activity, with people getting into and out of cars, making way for the waitresses and carhops and in general having a good time. Angela couldn't spot anybody she knew just off the bat, but figured they were a bit early. Most of the people seemed to be older greasers or hoods who weren't in school anymore, as well as their girlfriends.

She decided to go get a chocolate shake, and forked over fifty cents for one. What the hell, it was allowance day soon, anyway, and she could save back up. She leaned against the wall around the corner from the walk-up booth and sipped at the straw. Anita joined her, and they shared Angela's shake and chatted while waving at girls either of them knew. It didn't escape Angela that some of the guys paid more attention when she pushed her front forward a bit as she leaned back against the wall. It made her back feel a bit stiff, though.

She briefly felt that she ought to go home, but managed to squash that pretty quickly. Her family could get along without her for one night, seeing as Tim didn't always come home either.

Apparently bored of Jay's, Anita tugged on Angela's arm, saying, "Let's go up the Ribbon, huh?"

"Okay. Just a block away from here I think there's a clothes store we could look at, actually."

Anita and Angela managed to kill a good hour jokingly primping in all the clothes that had recently become fashionable. Daringly, she even tried a miniskirt on and looked at herself in the mirror. She bet it would even be worth Tim cussing a blue streak and Curly vainly trying not to get too much of an eyeful without obviously staring at the ceiling (or covering his eyes and walking around looking like a complete chump).

After Angela stepped out of the dressing room, she saw Anita holding up what seemed to be the flimsiest top ever. It _crinkled_. "Anita, is that a _paper_ flower pattern top?"

"Honest to God. How on Earth do they think y'all can wear one of these without rippin' it is beyond me. Only costs a buck though."

Angela groused, "Shoot! I blew all my cash on that chocolate shake. Not like I'd feel too comfortable wearin' that, though. What if it ripped in school?"

Anita pursed her lips. "Good point. I think I'll skip it too."

Unfortunately, Anita didn't have the kind of money to buy even the seconds as far as the non-paper clothes went, so they left and decided to plod over to the Dingo. The fates willing the pay phone there would be working, and Angela could bum a ride off Tim, or Anita could call Two-Bit.

- - -

Angela Shepard got a surprise at the Dingo, though.

Anita was dialling on the pay phone when Angela noticed a '63 Thunderbird barrelling into the sandy part of the lot behind the Dingo, so whoever was in it would have to walk almost all the way 'round the building to get in the front. Her feet carried her to the back before she realized Dallas Winston was stepping out of the car.

The slamming of the door woke her from her trance, and she thought, _oh, Lord, and I'm in my school skirt!_

She wondered if opening her shirt just one button might be too obvious.

Actually, it ended up not mattering, since Dallas was already half-crocked. She knew Dallas was supposed to be bad news, what with Tim warning her off him and her overhearing how every second week or a month, they'd get into a fight.

And Sylvia. Hoo boy, there was a woman to strike the fear of God into anyone who thought about making eyes at Dallas. Angela remembered the screaming match between Sylvia and Dawn Black after Dawn had been caught kissing him.

But somehow, none of that mattered as the tow-headed, dangerous blond caught her eye and half-strode, half-staggered to nearly press her against the back wall of the Dingo.

Her voice wavered just a bit (surely it was excitement at his presence, not nervousness) as she said, "Well, hello there, Dally."

"Hullo to you, sweetcheeks. I sure feel my day improvin' already after Buck got on my case for losing a horse race." He looked down to a spot that was definitely below her chin. "Even in that dress, you're not half bad for half a Shepard."

Confused, Angela blurted, "Huh?"

Dallas's hand came to rest on her shoulder, and a thrill went up and down her spine. He shook his head as though to clear the cobwebs and said, "Aw, don't mind me. How 'bout you and me, we blow this joint and go to the Nightly Double, huh?"

Just as Dallas's hand threatened to move a little lower than it ought to, Angela shifted a bit to her right, also moving her out of Dallas's personal space. She demurely said, "Well, that'd be a fine idea, only I was here with a friend. I gotta just ask her if she'll be okay bein' alone here, you know."

As if that were a signal, Anita came barrelling around the corner, saying, "Angel! Come _on_. Two-Bit's on his way and you know how he likes to drive. We need to be out front."

Angela saw a momentary spasm of – anger? annoyance? – cross Dally's face and shuddered involuntarily. He looked at her full on and said easily, "Well, that's it, I guess. Y'all can't be waitin' for Two-Bit, can ya? Another time, Shepard."

Anita practically yanked Angela's arm out of its socket pulling her back to the entry doors of the Dingo. It turned out to be extremely fortunate, because another car, driven by a harried-looking Buck Merril, came to a halt behind Dally's car. Sylvia raced out of it and started screeching at Dally about being so crocked he left her stranded at the bar.

Boy, did Angela sure feel like she dodged a bullet there.

* * *

Author Notes:

Much thanks go to **byebyebirdie58** for beta reading this chapter as well as kindly allowing the use of her version of Two-Bit's sister, and for nitpicking my older ones. I made minor corrections to them. :-) Apologies for the short chapter length, but it seemed to stop at a good place.


End file.
